


The Meaning of Red

by Pikdame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Rough Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27064807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikdame/pseuds/Pikdame
Summary: After the War, Charlie Weasley fills in for Hagrid as Care of Magical Creatures teacher, if only to get his mother off his back about sticking around a little longer. Charlie didn't expect he would be spending his days on things other than class, least of all his baby-brother's girlfriend.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 46
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, the set-up is sloppy, I just needed to get these two into the right setting :D
> 
> Will have multiple shorter chapters - good for a quick reading snack, I imagine
> 
> Also: I'm awful with tags, so I will likely add as I upload, because I forget. All the time.

Charlie Weasley had a problem. And not the sort of problem where you can’t locate your second sock. He was having the sort of problem that involved his youngest brother’s girlfriend. It wasn’t her fault, he thought sourly. But it kind of was. Where did she get off from, walking around in those… clothes, anyway. It’s the school uniform, a small voice in the back of his head reminded him. But really. She… wore it differently. He kept catching himself watching her even when he had no excuse at all to look at her and inwardly punished himself for it in the moments his sanity made a comeback. It happened occasionally. Not a lot, these days. The sanity thing. Currently, she was sitting alone at Gryffindor table, engrossed in a book, as usual. Her robe lay on the bench beside her and he could just make out a spot of thigh revealed by her skirt. Merlin, why her, he groaned softly and reached for coffee. As he poured himself a cup, his eyes wandered back to her, watching as her fingers combed through her locks. He promptly spilled coffee over his fingers. It hurt and he cursed under his breath.

“Are you all right?” Professor McGonagall asked in passing.

“Yes,” He said, quickly whipping out his wand to fix the mess. “I was somewhere else with my mind. Sorry. Good morning, Professor.”

“Good morning,” She said. “Charlie, I meant to tell you. I really appreciate it.”

“Mh…?” He muttered, looking up.

“You filling in for Hagrid,” McGonagall told him. “It’s a big help.”

“No worries, Professor,” Charlie said, wiping his fingers on the napkin. “My mother practically begged me to stick around for a while, besides, it’s… my pleasure.” His eyes flicked back to Gryffindor table where a red-head had joined her.

“I suppose you do get to see your sister graduate,” McGonagall said.

“Yes, that too,” Charlie mumbled without listening, staring at the smiling girl who was now chatting with his sister. Then, Professor McGonagall proceeded to her chair in the middle of the table and left him to his thoughts.

“Charlie! I’m here, where are you!”

“Gin?” He called over his shoulder. “Around the side!”

“What are you doing?” His sister asked, approaching from behind. “Your letter said you had something to show me?” She stepped up on his right.

“Yeah, come look,” Charlie said.

“Are those Kneazle kittens?” asked another voice from the left, startling him so much, he bumped his head on the wooden crate lid he’d been holding up with the left hand. He rubbed his head, feeling embarrassed.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

“He’s fine,” Ginny said. “Skull of stone that one.”

“Thanks, Gin,” Charlie muttered.

“I was intrigued, I hope you don’t mind I came along,” Hermione said apologetically.

“No, no, of course,” He said, suddenly very away he was in ratty cut-off jeans and too big a muscle shirt that hung lose and dirty around his torso.

“These are cute,” Ginny commented, pointed at the orange fur balls rolling around in the crate.

“Where did you get them,” Hermione asked, bending over the crate as well. “I thought their mothers were fiercely protective.”

“Their mother abandoned them. Likely didn’t make it,” Charlie said. “Someone down in the village found them, starving.”

“Oh, no,” Ginny cooed, reaching for one of the kittens.

“Careful,” Charlie warned. “Sharp – ”

“Ouch!”

“… teeth.”

“They bite!” Ginny complained, holding up her bleeding finger.

“Well, they’re hungry. I thought you might want to help me feed them,” Charlie said. “That’s why I mailed you in the first place.”

“Hungry for fingers?” Ginny muttered. He shrugged.

“You should take that to Madame Pomfrey,” Charlie advised. “Who knows where those claws and teeth have been.”

“Ugh, great,” Ginny said. “You coming?”

“I’d like to watch for a bit, actually,” Hermione said. “If that’s all right.”

“They’re vicious,” Ginny said. “What do you want to watch them for? But all right, I’ll see you for dinner.” She trudged off and Charlie suddenly realized he was alone with Hermione. They weren’t usually alone. They’d never been alone. His pulse quickened.

“What do they eat?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, uhm… milk,” Charlie said. “I prepared bottles.”

“You’re kidding,” Hermione said, sounding fascinated.

“Would you like to help?” He asked, blurting it out in hopes of keeping her around longer, without considering it wasn’t smart at all for him to be alone with Hermione Granger. He was an impulsive guy and she was… just so intriguing. It's just sexual, the told himself. You're not really interested in _her_. You want her, because you can't have her. You always want what you can't have.

“Really?” She asked.

“What else did you want to stay for?” He asked before realizing how cheeky and flirty it sounded. But Hermione didn’t seem to think anything of it, because she gave him a brilliant smile.

“I’d love to,” She said.

“Here, sit,” Charlie said hurriedly, dropping the lid back into the grass and pulling up a small stool he’d intended to use. “I’ll get one out for you.” She sat on the stool, careful to arrange her skirt properly. Charlie scooped an orange furball from the crate and placed it into her lap where it rolled about, attempting to catch his fingers. Charlie quickly pulled the bottle from the box on the ground and handed it to her. “Just stick it into the general direction of the muzzle.” A moment later, the Kneazle found the nip and immediately seized it.

“Oh,” Hermione cooed. “That is very cute.”

“Yeah, they’re quite cuddly, aren’t they?” Charlie asked, reaching for a second Kneazle and a bottle.

“They are,” Hermione said, stroking her finger over the Kneazle’s exposed belly. Charlie dropped into the grass and fed his Kneazle that was just as eager as Hermione’s. “Not so vicious when you’re fed, are you?” She said, smiling as the Kneazle’s suckling became slower and it appeared to fall asleep. “This one reminds me of Ron, to be honest.” Charlie laughed weakly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” He said.

“Did I offend you in some way?” She inquired.

“… offend me,” He said, raising his eyebrows. “No, why?”

“I don’t know,” She said. “It felt like you had a problem with me.”

“No,” He said quickly. “I don’t have a problem with you. I like you.” He wanted to bite his tongue hard, but again she seemed to interpret his words as harmless. “Ron…” He cleared his throat. “Ron’s a lucky guy.” She blushed.

“Oh,” She said. “Thank you. I must have imagined it then. Nevermind.”

“How… how is that going?” Charlie asked. “You and Ron. If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Why would I mind?”

“You don’t really know me all that well,” He said as his Kneazle finished off the bottle. “And it’s a private matter.”

“Ron tells everyone whatever they’ll listen to,” She said as they placed the Kneazles back into the crate and chose a second pair. “I’m a little surprised you don’t know everything down to the last detail already.”

“I guess Ron and I aren’t as close as I thought,” Charlie said.

“Well, then I guess you’ll hear it from me. Things are going all right. It’s… strange to be back at Hogwarts without him and Harry. A lot less trouble. But strange. We don’t see a lot of each other these days and he’s not good with writing elaborate letters.” Charlie nodded.

“You’ll see each other on Hogsmeade weekends though, right?”

“If they can squeeze it into their schedules,” Hermione said, shrugging.

“Right,” Charlie said, entranced by the way her caramel hair shimmered in the late afternoon sun as she cared for the little Kneazle in her lap. “You’re not the first long-distance relationship in Hogwarts. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” She said.

“Not that I’d know, of course.” Her lips twitched into a small grin. “Oh no, what did my mother say?”

“Nothing you haven’t heard a thousand times, I’m sure,” Hermione said.

“Let me guess,” He sighed, then cleared his throat and attempted an imitation of his mother’s voice that came out really rather unflattering. “’that boy needs a woman in his life!’, ‘if only he moved back home I’m sure he’d find a good wife’ and my personal favourite ‘how is he ever going to give me grandbabies if he won’t settle down!’”

“That was scarily accurate,” Hermione said. Then she laughed and Charlie couldn't help staring at her. If only things were as easy as they seemed in his mother’s world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out Hermione's thoughts on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - it's just not been an entirely inspirational time as many will understand just too well. I hope everyone had enjoyable holidays :)

Hermione Granger quickened her steps, excited that Charlie had invited her back to care for the Kneazle kittens. She’d been relieved to learn that he did not dislike her at all – it had been a nagging feeling for a while – a feeling Ron and Ginny had told her was ridiculous. Charlie was a animal man, Ginny had explained. He just wasn’t good with people. He was very good with creatures indeed, she’d witnessed it first-hand with the Kneazles. How a man as big and strong as Charlie could care for something so small… it was endearing, really. She glanced at her watch. They hadn't really set up a time and she didn't want to be an inconvenience either way, so she debated skipping breakfast to go down to Hagrid's Hut right away. Charlie had said 'morning'... whatever that meant. Her general experience with Weasley children was that they liked to sleep in, but who knew with Charlie? She realized her feet had taken her to the Great Hall without her brain supplying much of an input at all and figured that a quick breakfast likely couldn't hurt. She selected a seat far enough away from a few younger students that she was safely out of the way of a possible food-fight; those had been all the rage lately, much to the chagrin of one Professor McGonagall. She'd just reached for some toast when she heard someone say,

"Oh no - he's not here!" She glanced up. A few girls from Ginny's year - well, now _her_ year too, technically, had arrived at Gryffindor table, looking utterly crestfallen.

"You said he took early breakfasts!" said one of them. Hermione frowned, realizing the girls looked awfully dolled-up for a non-Hogsmeade Saturday.

"I said I _think_ he takes an early breakfast," Her friend corrected.

"Ugh, what a waste of sleep time," The first muttered.

"What do you want to do, go back up?"

"No, whatever. Now that we're here we might as well eat."

"Maybe he'll be here." The girls settled a few seats down, looking annoyed now.

"Can you believe McGongall won't let us join Magical Creatures? I mean, she should be happy we want to take additional classes!"

"I'm sure Charlie would have let us join - we had him wrapped around our little fingers," sighed one of the girls, twirling her pinky. Hermione hid her face behind a copy of the Daily Prophet, unable to keep a straight face.

“Charlie,” Hermione called when she neared Hagrid’s Hut. He didn’t answer. Was she too late? Had he left already? Deciding she'd look for him in a minute, she made over to the Kneazle crate where the orange fluffballs were falling over each other in play. She smiled.

“Oh hey – you’re early,” said a voice from behind and she looked around. Charlie had come trudging from the Forbidden Forest, carrying a log of wood on his shoulder. By Merlin, he looked like a regular advertisement for something very manly, like plaid shirts or trekking boots. Or something like that. He was in jeans and a t-shirt that stuck to his damp chest. A crush she’d long since gotten over sparked feebly in her gut.

“Good morning,” She said. He dropped the log by the hut and came over to her.

“Morning,” He said, glancing into the crate. “They look about ready to eat.”

“They do,” She agreed and watched as Charlie summoned a box of bottles from Hagrid’s Hut. “Are you staying here?” She inquired as they settled down with a Kneazle each. "The Hut, I mean?"

“No,” He said. “I’ve got some cosy quarters up in the castle. But I’m usually up at the crack of dawn, there’s a lot of work to do.”

“I bet,” Hermione said with a small grin. “I heard a lot of girls tried to join Care of Magical Creatures all of a sudden.” She could have sworn a trace of pink bloomed on Charlie’s face.

“That word got around then, huh.”

“Very much so,” She said. “You're the talk of the town, so to speak. It’s not surprising.” Then she realized how that sounded, because Charlie raised an eyebrow at her. “Because, you know. You’re a dragon keeper.”

“Oh,” He said. “Yeah, well. I guess that must sound interesting to someone who’s never seen a dragon up close before.”

“Interesting. And scary,” Hermione said. “I could never do what you do.”

“Excuse me?” He snorted. “If only a fraction of what I’ve heard is true, you’ve faced way scarier things than a dragon. I bet you’d like them if you met one.”

"I don't fancy a repeat, actually," She said. 

"Oh yeah, I forget - you knew Norberta," Charlie said, chuckling.

"Norberta," Hermione said quickly, grateful to be able to cover up her slip-up. They hadn't told anyone about riding a dragon out of Gringott's and the Goblins had made it clear they didn't want word getting around that three barely off-age wizards had not only broken in, but broken out successfully. "Yes - that was bad enough. I think I’ll stick with the Kneazles,” She said, switching furballs and bottles. “What is it like in Romania?”

“At the reserve?”

“Yes. I mean, what do you do there apart from caring for the dragons?”

“What normal people do,” Charlie said with a shrug. “We go out, grab some beers, have the occasional party. Some of the guys have families, not everyone’s a hermit like me.”

“Some of the guys?” She asked. “So it’s just men?”

“No,” Charlie said. “There’s always Natasha. But she’d kill me if I singled her out by saying ‘the guys and Natasha’.”

“I see,” She said. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes,” Charlie said. “I don’t mind the solitude, most of the time. Always been more of an animal guy than a people guy.”

“You must feel so crowded when coming back to the Burrow.”

“Well, yes and no,” He said. “They are my family.”

“That is true,” She chuckled.

“How about you? What are your plans for after Hogwarts?”

“I’ve been toying with the idea of taking my House-elf Organisation to the next level. Kingsley wants me in the Ministry, but…”

“I bet he does,” Charlie muttered.

“… I might join the Creatures Department,” Hermione said. “Try and make a change.”

“Admirable,” Charlie complimented her.

“Thank you,” She said. “It must sound silly to you. It’s just houseelves, not dragons.”

“Houseelves are creatures too,” Charlie said. “And I care about all creatures.” She smiled and he returned it. It was funny, his weathered face looked very different when he smiled – younger, fresher. The wind tousled his wild hair and he scratched his beard absentmindedly, fingers running through the red-gold stubble.

“How - " She cleared her throat, shaking off the thoughts about his physical appeal. "How have you liked teaching so far?”

“Not sure I’m cut-out for it, actually,” Charlie said. “It’s exhausting. I don’t know how people do it for decades.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s not forever.”

“That’s true. We all figured by the way. Congratulations.” He nodded at her Head Girl badge.

“Oh,” She said, glancing down at it. “Thank you. I always wanted to be Head Girl… now it doesn’t really strike me as important anymore. Not that I don’t appreciate it.” He chuckled. “You were Prefect in your day, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “But I always put more effort into being Quidditch Captain, to be honest. Percy’s the academic in the family.”

“I hope I don’t execute my power quite as ferociously,” She said dryly. He laughed.

“It must have been a nightmare,” He said.

“Ron certainly thought so,” She said, thinking back to old times. They finished feeding the Kneazles and Hermione looked over at the logs Charlie had piled by Hagrid’s door. “What are you planning with those?”

“I want to build an enclosure for these little guys,” He said. “They’ll outgrow the crate right quick. I think I’ll make it a project for the third years. You know, little more exciting than flobberworms.”

“I hear you,” She said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see some old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for Valentine's Day :D
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the Kudos and the wonderful comments, it always makes my day a little bit better to get that notification and read your thoughts

“Charlie?” She asked. “Are you here?”

“Yeah,” He called. “Come check this out!” She rounded the hut and found him hunkering in front of something. “I found something strange.”

“What do you mean, strange?” She inquired, stepping up next to him. “Oh… god, no.”

“Mh?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”

“Just because it looks a little off…” Charlie said with a shrug.

“No, that’s a blast-ended skrewt,” Hermione explained.

“A blast-ended what now?”

“Skrewt,” She said. “A highly dangerous hybrid Hagrid whipped up a few years ago. Where did you find him, I thought they’d all been… you know. Eradicated.”

“Found him in the Forest, I thought he might need some help, look, the stinger’s crooked.”

“… it’s not, that’s what they look like,” Hermione said.

“Really.”

“Yes,” She said. “Charlie… please tell me you didn’t just… take him?”

“Of course I did, I thought…” Before she could tell him why exactly that was a bad idea, they were interrupted by a sound somewhere between a growl and a screech. They turned around and the next moment, a fully grown skrewt came dashing from the trees. “What the fuck is that?” Charlie asked, stumbling backward. “It’s mother?”

“This looks like Dad, actually,” Hermione said, staring. She’d never seen a skrewt this big. And it looked livid. With a boom, it blasted itself forward a good ten yards and the stinger came down on them, chasing them in different directions.

“What helps against these!” Charlie yelled.

“Impedimenta!” Hermione replied, whipping her wand forth and aiming at the underside of the skrewt. It teetered, but the spell had a minimal effect. She scrambled backward, her right leg giving out and fell into the grass. Her wand shook when she raised it again, because the screwt was almost on top of her now. Before it could attack however, it was yanked off her. Charlie, she realized, her wide eyes watching as he sent it flying back toward the forest. It slammed against a tree and made off, followed by its young that scrambled after it.

“Are you all right?” Charlie called, sprinting over to her and skidding to a halt on his knees by her side.

“I… I think so,” She said shakily. “Just light-headed.”

“You’re bleeding,” Charlie said, pointing at her knee. “That thing got you.”

“No, no, I just scratched it when I fell.”

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“… this needs cleaning out, Hermione.”

“It’s not…” But he did not listen to her, he reached for her and picked her up with ease. She squeaked and tensed upon being lifted off the ground. “Charlie, set me down!” She said.

“Be quiet and let me have a look at this, all right?” He said and carried her to the bench by the door to Hagrid’s hut. He set her down, then implored her, “Don’t move.” And disappeared into the hut. She looked at her right knee – it did look rather nasty, she had to admit. Blood was running down her calf and grass was sticking to the wound. Charlie reappeared with a small box and a wet cloth. He knelt in front of her and grabbed her ankle and calf in his big calloused hand. He took off her shoe, then placed her foot flat on his thigh. She blushed. She’d never touched a virtual stranger this intimately. An adult man who would think she was a silly little girl for judging the situation as such in the first place. “This might hurt,” He warned her, looking up at her. “Push down on my leg if you have to.” She nodded. He slipped his hand to the back of her knee, then brought the cloth up, dabbing away at the blood. The moment he touched the wound, she hissed and pressed her foot down on him. It hurt, it hurt a lot.

“Oh, you weren’t lying,” She muttered.

“Hermione, this is not just a scratch – I think you got stung.”

“No,” She said, glancing at the wound. It really wasn’t that big. “It couldn’t have gotten me – that would look much worse.”

“Well, it won’t stop bleeding,” Charlie said. “Are those things poisonous?”

“I don’t know,” She said confusedly. They’re part manticore, so ma – ”

“They’re what?!” Charlie exclaimed. “Are you sure?”

“No, to tell you the truth, but I think that’s what Hagrid said…”

“Okay, I’m taking you to Madame Pomfrey right now.”

“You don’t have to do that,” She started. “I’ll go on my own.”

“Yeah? And what if you collapse on the way there?” Charlie said, shaking his head. “No, can you get up?”

“Yes,” She said and rose to her feet – rather wobbly.

“Okay, look at me,” Charlie said and she tipped her head back to find his eyes locked on hers. They were the most peculiar shade of brown, almost amber. She thought they were pretty. “Shit,” He hissed and she barely registered him grabbing her arms.

She awoke to a blaring headache, groaning softly.

“Hey,” whispered a voice and she turned to it, squinting. “It’s Charlie.”

“Charlie?” She muttered and reached for her throbbing head. “What happened?”

“Turns out that skrewt did sting you after all,” He said. “You’re in the Hospital wing, it’s all right.”

“Oh,” She mumbled, rubbing her eye. When she looked at him, he seemed very worried. “What?” She asked. “Something wrong?”

“No, you’re all right. But it was a close call. I’m so sorry, Hermione.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I should never have taken that thing out of the forest without knowing what it was – but it was alone and I thought…”

“Don’t worry about it,” She said. “This is hardly the worst that’s ever happened to me.” Then she registered something red on his arm. “He get you too?”

“No,” Charlie said. “No, I’m all right, why?”

“There’s… there’s blood on your arm,” She said, pointing.

“Oh,” He said, frowning as he looked at it. “I guess that’ll be yours.”

“Mine,” She echoed. “Why is my blood on… hang on, how did I get here? Did you carry me?”

“Yeah,” He said with a weak grin. “McGonagall should seriously reconsider the Apparition ban on the grounds if you ask me.”

“Oh, no,” Hermione mumbled, feeling mortified.

“It’s all right,” He said. “No one saw you… out of it. Everyone was at lunch, probably.”

“No, I mean…” She sighed. She couldn’t very well tell him why she found it incredibly embarrassing that he’d had to carry her to the Hospital wing like a little girl who had fainted. “Out of it? What does that mean? I was… unconscious?”

“Not really,” He said. “It was like you were dreaming or something. You mumbled some stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Nonsense,” He said and shrugged. She stared at him. “Don’t worry about it,” He said and reached for her hand which he squeezed in his much larger one. “I’m just glad you’re all right.” She could practically feel the steam puff out of her ears at this point.

“What… uhm… what about the screwts?” Hermione asked.

“McGonagall wants them out of the forest,” Charlie said. “Which is sensible – I mean, I think every creature has a right to live, but that doesn’t mean it has to be on school grounds. If you hadn’t been there, Daddy screwt would have surprised and probably beheaded me or something.”

“That was pretty smart. What you did,” Hermione said. “Flinging it off like that – I would’ve never thought to do that. I was… stunned when the Impedimenta didn’t work.”

“Well, that thing was huge,” Charlie said. “It probably would have taken more than one spell to stop it. That – or they’ve evolved since you’ve last seen them.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they found the next best dangerous thing in the forest and somehow procreated,” Hermione muttered, rubbing her forehead. “What’s going to happen to them?”

“I’m not sure,” Charlie said.

“Hagrid’s not going to be happy,” Hermione said. Charlie snorted.

“He’ll live.”

“Well, well, Miss Granger,” Madame Pomfrey interrupted. “You’re awake, that’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Hello Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione said. “A little woozy.”

“To be expected,” The matron said sternly. “Needless to say, you’re staying overnight.”

“Yes, Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione said quietly.

“I thought I would have seen the last of you, to be honest. With Potter and Weasley gone… well,” she glanced at Charlie. “I see you’ve found yourself a replacement Weasley.” Hermione didn’t dare look at Charlie, sure that her head was about the colour of a tomato right about now.

Charlie had left when Professor McGonagall had stopped by to make sure she was all right. The Headmistress had no kind words to say about Hagrid and his reckless animal keeping habits, but Hermione was only half-listening. She could not get over what Charlie had told her. According to his words, she’d been dreaming and mumbling… even now, in the dark seclusion of the Hospital wing, she hid her face under her hands in embarrassment. If she had said anything even remotely related to the things she’d been dreaming about lately… turning onto her stomach, she buried her face in her pillow and groaned aloud. Charlie hadn’t let on that she’d said something strange, but he might have just been polite to her face. It was entirely possible that Charles Weasley had found great amusement in her silly little school girl fantasies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charlie talks to no one and we learn a little more about those dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you for the kudos and comments, everyone's been really supportive and motivating :D

“You’re sick,” Charlie told his reflection.

“Excuse me?”

“Not you – me!” Charlie clarified.

“I don’t know,” The mirror said. “You look perfectly healthy to me.” He scowled at the glass.

“Shut up,” He said and bent over the sink to wash his arm.

“Very touchy,” The mirror muttered and fell silent. Charlie took a deep breath as the soap rinsed off the dried blood on his left forearm.

“You’re just sick,” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. The truth was, before they’d realized she’d actually been stung, he’d quite enjoyed carrying her to the bench and patching up her knee. Focussing on the injury had been all he could do to not let his mind wander to her foot on his leg or the way she had panted from the adrenaline. He’d been very tempted to kiss her right there, but then, he was always very tempted to do that… He turned off the water with a yank of his hand and the handle creaked miserably. Charlie reached for a towel and rubbed his arm vigorously. “She almost died and you’re thinking about kissing her,” He grumbled. “Merlin, Weasley, you’re completely off your broom.” She’d practically fainted on him and he’d decided in a split second that he had to get her to the Hospital wing. It had felt like a very close call to Charlie – not that he wasn’t used to close calls or anything, but it was different when it was a girl who… “No, she’s not for you, you can’t even think these things,” He berated himself and left the bathroom. In his small sitting room, he collapsed on the couch by the fire and reached for one of the butterbeers he’d stashed under the couch table. He pulled the lid off and gulped down half the bottle in one swig. And still… when she’d woken up in the Hospital wing, all he’d wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and not let go for a good long while. He put a hand over his eyes. If anyone ever found out what was going on in his mind, he’d go to St Mungo’s mental ward – or Azkaban, depending on how very illegal relations between students and teachers were, exactly – he’d never really thought of it before. He’d also never found himself attracted to girls that much younger than him, usually his endeavours were pretty straight forward. Either it worked or it didn’t. He’d never had to consider consequences before, now he had nothing but consequences ahead if he let his restraint slip even once. “And that’s why,” He said to the ceiling, glaring at it as if telling off a ceiling was a thing, “it’s never going to happen – you won’t let it happen. You’re an adult, you’re supposed to make sensible decisions and not let your dick dictate – ”

“Hah, dictate, get it?” said a voice in his mind that sounded awfully much like Fred’s.

“That’s it!” Charlie groaned, sitting up. “No more, enough. You’re not some hormone-controlled teenager!” But the little voice in his head whispered,

“… you tell yourself that, pal.”

“And where have you been?” Hermione startled, looking up from her feet.

“Ginny.”

“Hello?” Ginny said. “You didn’t come in last night – are you cheating on my brother?” Hermione stared at her friend who now laughed about her own joke.

“I… I was in the Hospital wing,” Hermione said weakly.

“What? Are you all right?” Ginny asked, frowning in concern.

“I’m fine,” Hermione assured her. “Charlie found a baby screwt in the Forbidden Forest and when he showed it to me, its Daddy descended upon us like a bewitched bludger.” Ginny stared at her.

“How are those things still alive?!”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “I got stung, anyhow…” She considered how much to tell Ginny. “Charlie took me to the Hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey had me spend the night.”

“Well, hardly the worst that’s happened to you,” Ginny said with a shrug.

“Right,” Hermione said weakly. She couldn’t very well reveal the more intimate details – like how she secretly wished she remembered what Charlie’s hands felt like on her body as he carried her or how her dreams had taken a turn for the worse on the faithful girlfriend scale.

“You can tell me all about it later, okay?” Ginny asked, holding up her broom. “We’re meeting for some last-minute plans.” Hermione only now realized Ginny was in her red Gryffindor Quidditch robes. She glanced at her watch. It was only half past seven, most people were likely still asleep. The match wouldn’t start until ten.

“Sure,” Hermione said, glad for the excuse to not have to relay everything to Ginny right away. 

“You could come down early if you’re bored,” Ginny suggested.

“Don’t take it the wrong way – but no,” Hermione said.

“You’re going to do school work, aren’t you?” Ginny asked. “Don’t even answer that, you are so boring. You’re coming to the match though?”

“Of course,” Hermione promised. “Good luck, Gin.” Ginny grinned, patted her arm in passing and they parted – Ginny slipping down the corridor and Hermione climbing through the portrait hole into the Common room. She’d missed out on a bunch of homework last night and now she had a whole lot of work left for a Sunday which wasn’t like her at all. She showered and changed, then grabbed her stuff and settled into her favourite little nook by the window that allowed her a view of the grounds. She used to be able to watch Harry and Ron practice Quidditch from here – now it was just Ginny and she found, guiltily, she cared even less about Quidditch than before, so her gaze drifted off toward Hagrid’s hut.  
She didn’t expect to see anything with Hagrid gone who had often busied himself in the pumpkin patch or with some sort of repairs, his large frame easily visible from the window up in Gryffindor tower. She reached for her Charms book when something caught her eye. To her great surprise, Charlie was in the pumpkin patch, clearly discernible by his red gold hair. She squinted, moving her head forward a few inches, as if that helped her see any clearer. It looked like… Charlie was digging over the patch with a shovel – by hand. It was one thing for her to do things the muggle way out of habit from time to time, simply forgetting she could use magic to do them. But Charlie? He’d grown up with magic, had been allowed to use it at free will for years, why would he be doing manual labour like that? She watched him for a few moments, then her mind drifted off – even further away from Charms or Quidditch and very quickly down the rabbit hole of the scenarios that had been making up her dreams lately. They started out innocently enough most of the time, except, in her dreams, Charlie and she wouldn’t talk. Apart from hushed whispers of her name, Charlie’s hands and lips would do all the necessary communication. He would tug off her clothes in a way that did not leave them in a state of usability. He would kiss her in a way that had her knees shaking… Hermione’s fingers absently stroked over her bottom lip and a shiver ran down her spine. She squirmed in her seat, crossing her legs and pressing her thighs together.

“Hermione?” She jerked up and around, embarrassed and frazzled that someone had caught her… doing what, exactly? “Are you all right? Did I startle you?”

“Dennis,” Hermione said weakly. “I was just… I was…” She swallowed, scrambling to hide her fluster. “Somewhere else with my mind.”

“Did you want to join us for the Quidditch match?” Dennis asked. “Or aren’t you going?”

“I…” She said, looking from Dennis to his friends – a band of gangly fifth years all carrying some sort of Gryffindor coloured accessory. Then she glanced at her watch. “Nine-thirty,” She whispered. “Already? Uhm… Dennis, I should clear this off first,” Hermione said. “You go on ahead without me.”

“All right,” He said with a shrug. Hermione waited for them to leave, then sighed audibly and got up, stacking up the books she hadn’t even opened. She had to get herself together, this was getting ridiculous.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione made her way along a row of seats occupied by excitedly gossiping first years.

“Morning, Luna,” She said, claiming the seat next to her eccentric Ravenclaw friend. Spotting Luna had been very easy – she was wearing her infamous Gryffindor hat.

“Hello,” Luna said airily. “I heard a rumour about you.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked. “What is it this time?”

“That you had died in a vicious Hippogriff attack.” Hermione stared at her from the side.

“What?”

“I didn’t think it was true – Hippogriffs don’t attack unless provoked and you are no fool.”

“Uhm… well, thanks,” Hermione said. “For your information, it was a screwt attack and I didn’t die.”

“That’s good to hear,” Luna said. Hermione rubbed her forehead, chuckling. There was nothing like a conversation with Luna Lovegood to distract oneself from improper thoughts. Charlie Weasley was – at least for the moment – out of her mind.

“Got a spot for me?” She looked around and her stomach dropped to somewhere underneath her seat.

“Charlie?”

“In the flesh,” He said, hands in his jacket pockets, lips quirked in a crooked grin. “Or are you keeping the seat?”

“No, I… no,” Hermione said weakly. “Sit. I didn’t realize you’d be coming to the match.”

“Well, it is my first opportunity to see my sister play a proper game,” He reminded her and sat down. He seemed doubly big next to her with his large arm brushing against hers.

“Right,” Hermione said. "You… erm, you remember Luna?”

“Yes,” Charlie said, leaning around her. “She’s in my N.E.W.T. class – how are you, Luna?”

“Quite well, thank you Professor.” Charlie grimaced at her use of the word. 

“So?” Charlie said, sitting back and lowering his voice. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Hermione said, thinking about how she’d spent the better part of the morning staring at him digging around the empty pumpkin patch. Seconds too late, she added, “Thank you.”

“Got a good night’s sleep?”

“Mh-hm,” She squeaked guiltily. He raised his eyebrow at her.

“You’re sure you’re back to normal?” Hermione was pretty sure her current non-normalcy had very little to do with the screwt incident.

“Like it never happened,” She said quietly.

“Good,” Charlie said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write more stuff - I've been having a blast with this one :D


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